Witch Hunt
by shomarus
Summary: The huntress is sure she has nothing to offer for the lifting of her curse. The cheeky witch smiles and says otherwise.


The gift of immortality.

Amélie never had, and likely never would refer to it as such. Under different circumstances, she _might_ have, but how could something be considered a gift if it pushed you to kill those who you loved?

Gérard hadn't deserved such a gruesome death. Not many people did. If her thoughts dared to linger on that night for too long, she could still feel the slick of red liquid, she could still smell the heavy copper, and the taste. The taste had been so intoxicating, and that's what scared her the most. The thought that she could get used to this, ripping away someone's life so violently. So long as she got the blood that she wanted.

"The first feeding is when most vampires find they lose the most control," she remembered someone saying to her. Amélie had been so out of it that she could barely make out any features, but she knew that this was the person who had turned her. "Of course, if you're particularly unlucky, there's a chance you may go feral… permanently."

At the time, she didn't know why they had chosen her. She didn't know that they wanted her perfect Gérard dead. Not until she found a hunger lurking at the pit of her stomach. Not until she stared down and found her mouth covered in red and his eyes… God, his eyes. She didn't know whether to cry or to puke. How could someone look so terrified but so full of love at the same time? It wasn't fair.

Amélie had learned to control her hunger, to live with it. She'd even tried to turn her hunger into something of good. A bounty huntress, she now fed off of those who had done wrong. Of course, it didn't necessarily make her hunger feel right. She was no longer human, and she knew it. She was never going to get that part of her back.

The night was cool, although she supposed it didn't really mean much to a thermoconformer. _Everything_ felt cool to her. It seemed like it was every day that Amélie learned one more thing that detached her from mankind. It was sickening, that a creature like her was allowed to continue existence. Was this what other vampires felt like, needlessly grabbing for _some_ aspect of humanity?

Ah. There was someone eyeing her. Amélie had felt a gaze staring into her backside for quite some time, actually. She had been hoping to bait the creature out with faux ignorance, but she'd grown tired of waiting. Funny, coming from someone who had forever in the grasp of her hands. She called out. "Show yourself, why don't you?"

"How unfun."

With an astoundingly quick reflex time, Amélie turned around and aimed her weapon at the creature behind her. A woman, outfitted in stereotypical witch garb. Her eyes narrowed. What kind of a fool would pit magic against gunfire? The power imbalance did nothing to deter the witch, who scoffed playfully and pushed the rifle away from her body.

"This isn't how you're supposed to treat a guest!" A mock pout. Just what was it that this woman was trying to get at? "Oh, don't give me that look. I know you, Amélie Lacroix. Considering me to be a friend would do you a world of good."

Admittedly, Amélie was intrigued. Not quite sold, but intrigued. Despite this, she raised the gun again. Should the witch try anything she didn't like, all it would take was a pull of the trigger. All this confidence that she was exuding would do her nothing when she was dead. "What do you want from me?"

The witch smiled. "Not the question you should be asking, huntress. I should also mention! Real cute that you think that gun will do anything against Angela Ziegler, Witch of the Wilds."

So that's who she was. The gun was lowered. Keeping this in mind, trying to take a shot was like writing a suicide note. "I was expecting someone with more grandeur, if I were being quite honest." Amélie had heard the tales about the Witch of the Wilds, just like anyone else has. Someone who was able to cure any ailment… for a price.

"Noted. _Weisch mich._ You seem to know who I am, yes? Then am I safe in assuming that you also know why I'm here?"

Amélie did not. "Indulge me."

"I've been able to hear your pleas to life this… Vampirism off of you for a while. Goodness me, the desire was so strong that I wasn't sure I could get here fast enough!" She laughed and threw a wink towards Amélie. Her face remained wary. "What you want is to be alleviated from your curse, _gäll_?"

Yes. She'd never wanted anything more in her life than this. But there had to be a catch. There was always a catch with something good like this, and the Witch of the Wilds was not a woman chalked up to be a good samaritan. "You require something of me."

"Ever the clever woman, I see! I do suppose there's some form of payment required for such a _draining_ task. Pardon the pun, I simply couldn't resist." Angela was disgustingly cheerful, considering the situation they were in. Amélie decided not to comment. "So, make an offer."

Amélie thought about this for a while. Material things meant nothing to the witch. Material things didn't mean much to Amélie either; after killing Gérard she rarely came back home. The house was left untouched. Aside from that, she didn't know what else to give. Money meant nothing. And being a vampire, she had no connections to give. No spells to use.

"... While I thank you for the offer, I deny your service." She decided, finally.

Clearly, this was not the answer that Angela was hoping for. Or expecting, for that matter. For a second, she seemed genuinely off-put. "Come now, that's not what you're supposed to say. I know you want this, and I know you have something that I desire. You think I'd put so much strain on my wings were it not for this?" The overly sweet smile came back.

"I have nothing to give," Amélie replied flatly. She had no clue what Angela was trying to get at. She still didn't know when Angela took a step towards her and rested her arms on her shoulders.

"Many things come to mind." Angela's voice was less obnoxiously sweet this time around. Lower, much more flirty than what Amélie would have ever expected. "Your lips, for one. Your body, for another. If you'd let me, how about both?"

Amélie stared, trying not to let the embarrassment show on her visage. "... You. You're being serious?"

Angela rolled her eyes with a grin and closed the gap.


End file.
